


The Last Valkyrie

by blinkingbrave



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Norse Religion & Lore, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, M/M, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blinkingbrave/pseuds/blinkingbrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin moves to Ylistol on her sixteenth birthday to live with her older brother, Wren. Somehow Wren neglected to mention the frost giants, his book of dead people, and the snow in August when marketing his second room. Ragnarok(the myth)!AU. M!Robin, F!Robin, pairings open. Update: With much reluctance, Wren begins to explain Ylistol and the giants. Robin finds everything oddly familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Is Ice Cream Too Much to Ask For?

**Author's Note:**

> All the characters belong to Nintendo and the Fire Emblem franchise. In fact, unless I say I own it, just assume I don't. I guess I can at least call the main plot mine, eh?
> 
> Soooooo, I wanted to write something with swords. High School AU's are nice and all, but a girl needs a break every now and then (plus there were a few things I've done with the writing I hate myself for. did the same thing with another AU I scrapped before this. urgh.).
> 
> I'm actually enjoying where I'm going with this, so expect an update some time over the holidays?
> 
> Enjoy!

The freezer, while filled to the brim with frozen meats and vegetables, was disappointingly ice cream-less. "This is just sad, Wren." Robin closed the freezer door and spun back to her brother. Wren quirked an eyebrow and slumped a little lower down his couch. On his right, his best friend, Chrom, granted her a sympathetic smile. "Second year away from home and not a single tub of chocolate ice cream in the fridge. Aren't you supposed to be abusing your college student powers?"

Robin already knew if she had an apartment of her own it would, one, not be nearly as neat as Wren's with its carefully organized bookcase and impeccable coffee table, two, contain more than a couch, coffee table, bookcase, and some beds, and three, have a well maintained ice cream supply. "I thought you were watching your weight," Wren said. He didn't look up from his book, but Robin pouted at the teasing smile peaking over the pages anyways. "Besides, didn't you get tiramisu while we were out to dinner yesterday? And finished half of mine after?"

"Yesterday was my birthday, and it's not my fault you can't hold your chocolate." Robin fished her sneakers out from under her brother's couch. Wren was a little bit of a push-over, an adorable push-over with his superhero t-shirts, the glasses that just kept slipping down his nose, and a shock of perpetually ruffled white hair, but a push-over all the same. By pressing the right buttons, you could get him to do anything, and it was definitely one of the reasons Robin had begged Wren to let her move in with him. It also got her half a slice of tiramisu yesterday.

"You know, I forgot how much of a bully you were, Robin. I'm almost contemplating calling Dad to take you—Are you going out?" Wren's head popped over the couch, closely followed by Chrom's own. The two were staring at her with unnerving intensity. "Because you can't. By the way."

"What? Do you not go out after dark in Ylistol or something?" Robin crossed her arms over her chest. A lightning quick glance shot from Wren to Chrom. Their eerie telepathic link, cultivated since middle school, was something Robin had long stopped trying to interpret. Instead she shrugged. "Ice cream? Priorities? I'm not going to sneak into a night club in these ratty jeans and baggy t-shirt, if that's what you're worried about."

Wren slid back down the couch. "We can get ice cream tomorrow. You just arrived in town yesterday. You'll get lost."

"There's a gas station just on the corner. If I get lost walking a straight line down the sidewalk, then you can say I told you so," Robin said, shifting her pocketbook over her shoulder.

"This isn't small town Plegian." Robin didn't have to see Wren's face to picture his frown, all scolds and seriousness. "You live in a major city now, Robin, and creeps lurk around every corner."

"Good thing I have pepper spray," she sang. Giving the little bottle a quick shake, Robin darted for the door.

"Wait." Chrom pulled himself off the couch. "If you need to go, I'm going with you." Her brother's best friend was built like a cross-country runner, not muscly, per say, but lean and quick. Theoretically, if 'creeps' lurked around every corner, Chrom could probably scare them away with the ripple of his bicep. Or he could also just charm them out of existence with his tanned skin, long eyelashes, and shy smile. Not that he had done that to her during their two overlapping years of high school. "Robin?"

Robin cleared her throat and folded her arms over her chest. She was a strong, independent sixteen-and-one-day year-old who had definitely grown beyond swooning. "Thanks—"

"Oh, Chrom gets a thanks." Chrom laughed softly at Wren's dry tone, but Robin suspected he didn't understand the joke. He was oblivious to his effect on women.

"Thanks, but, once again, I have pepper spray, and in a pinch, those self-defense classes Mom made us take." Robin swung open the door. As if she had opened the door out into a refrigerator instead of a hallway, a gust of cold air almost sucked her breath away. "I'll be back in fifteen. Also, I'm borrowing your coat," Robin called, grabbing Wren's hooded jacket off its hook.

"Rob—" With a slam that rattled the wooden door on its hinges, Robin left her brother to gripe at Chrom, most likely. Unlike Wren's actual apartment, which was well maintained and freshly painted, the complex hallway truly dated the building. The floorboards squeaked with every step, the hideous beige paint was chipping off the walls to reveal equally aged brick, and the hall was so drafty, it felt more like February than August.

Tugging her slim arms through the sleeves of Wren's coat, Robin creaked her way downstairs. Despite its thin appearance, the jacket was warm and heavy, more like being wrapped in a dark purple blanket than a coat. Pulling up the hood, Robin started towards the door leading outside.

Chrom's little sister nearly caught her in the face. Swinging the door to his apartment open, Lissa poked her head around the wood to flash Robin a blinding smile. "Yoooooo, Robin." She didn't have to see Lissa's body to know the girl was bouncing on her heels. Lissa was—and always had been—a small, blonde ball of energy, like a golden retriever puppy, but the puppy at least had enough gall to look guilty after dropping a frog down your shirt. "Did Wren give you the coat?"

"Yeah." Wren almost definitely had Chrom sic Lissa on her to delay her adventure. This was the critical first night out mission, however, and it was going to define Robin's nightlife. Her brother was going to need something a little more powerful than Lissa to keep her indoors. Robin edged around Lissa with a smile. Short responses and nothing else were often best with the chatty girl. The blonde twirled around her door and clicked it shut. Already in a thick white coat that turned her into a walking marshmallow, Lissa skipped after her. "And just as I suspected, Chrom already told you my plans. Sure. Come along."

On the street, the cold was biting. It gnawed at every inch of exposed skin, making her bones ache. Huddling deeper into Wren's coat, Robin let Lissa skip ahead of her. You didn't argue with Lissa, and Robin couldn't feel her face well enough to argue anyways. It was below freezing, with the howling wind and the moon and stars swallowed entirely by clouds. Robin knew for a fact it was below freezing because it was snowing. In August. After hitting a high of eighty during the day. "Lissa." Her voice was so faint over the wind it was as if she was hearing herself through earplugs. "Lissa, is it always like this here?"

Lissa, a bouncing white blob with a little pink nose, nodded. Probably. It was rather difficult to tell under the blonde's fur lined hood. "Been like this ever since we moved here." When Wren moved, Chrom and Lissa moved, too, Chrom because they were attending the same college, Lissa because their older sister, Emm, was more away than home. "Wren thinks it's been getting worse, but he's a scaredy-cat about some stuff. All 'don't touch that, Lissa,' 'that's dangerous, Lissa,' 'knives are sharp, Lissa.' I'll drop a newt down his trousers one day, and then he'll learn the meaning of fear. But anyways, now that you're here, perhaps we can figure out how to warm it all up."

"Yeah, with loads of cocoa and blankets," Robin said. "This is just freaky."

Lissa giggled. "You're silly, Robin." Call her silly, but man, this was not normal. The gas station lights were barely visible in the intensifying flurries, lights mesmerizing in the white haze. Skipping up to the door, Lissa nudged it open for them both, and the door jingled shut behind them.

Inside, the gas station was only marginally warmer than outdoors, but Robin could feel her face defrosting, and it was a blessed sensation. Bouncing down the aisles, Lissa waved a hand somewhere near the soups. "Wren and Chrom thought we couldn't handle it," the blonde called. "Wren wanted me to bring you back before we even got outside. He still treats me like a kid, and you and I are the same age. Can you believe it?"

"That's because you behave like a kid, Lissa." The gas station was one designed for truckers, half devoted to aisles of food and car supplies, half devoted to coffee machines, the old classic brewers with the brown handled pots like Robin only saw at cheap breakfast diners. Perhaps everything in Ylistol was old. The checkout counter was deserted, and with the realization the gas station was empty, it felt still, a dead still. "Lissa?" The blonde didn't even squeak. It was one of Lissa's pranks of course, because Lissa loved pranks, even if they came at the expense of friends who felt rather like they had wandered into a graveyard at the moment. "Not funny, Lis. Come out. Now. If you scare me, I will pepper spray you." Robin strode towards the aisles. She caught a glimpse of her face in one of the glass windows, pale and pinched in Wren's giant hood. Beyond that, it was snowing, legitimate snow in the middle of summer. "Lissa?"

The girl was squatting in the soups aisle, enthralled by the can of spaghettiOs in her left hand and the can of alphabet soup in her right. "Oh, thank the gods."

Lissa started, and Robin felt rather silly for breathing it out. Jumping to her feet, Lissa thrust the two cans out to Robin. "Serious decision. Which comes home with me?"

"I don't care, Lissa." Robin felt a little lightheaded on adrenaline and relief, almost like she had been floating somewhere in the upper atmosphere where the air was just too thin. "I'm getting that ice cream, because we're here now, and I'm not going back to Wren without it, and we're getting out of here."

Robin found the frozen foods in the far corner of the gas station. If it hadn't been a few aisles away from Lissa, Robin would have dragged the girl with her, because this section was just as deserted as the rest. Whipping open the freezer door, Robin reached for the first container of chocolate ice cream she could find.

A hand wrapped over hers. The frozen foods section must not have been as deserted as she thought, Robin amended, because next to her was a rather pretty boy, studying her while his hand just sat over hers and the ice cream in the freezer. Pretty Boy's hand was freezing, almost colder than the ice cream, like he had been fumbling through the freezer for hours instead of a few seconds. "Sorry, did you… want this?" The boy was staring at her with eyes electric blue and skin so dazzlingly pale it almost seemed to sparkle under the florescent lights. Robin could feel her face heating under his piercing gaze. She had never been good with attractive guys. "Here. You can have it."

Robin released the ice cream, but Pretty Boy's hand only curled around hers. His mouth was so purple it was almost blue. "I… I'm sorry?" She was whispering, because for some reason, Robin was suddenly intensely, intensely scared. She was more a rabbit caught in this boy's trap, and something was off in his blue, blue eyes and the little tilt of his head as he watched her lips move. She wanted to scream for help, but Lissa was here, and sunshiney Lissa was even smaller than she was. Fumbling through her bag, Robin eased out her pepper spray. "If you don't let me go, you'll regret it."

Without even a flinch, Pretty Boy pressed one icy finger onto her still warm, red cheek. The touch on her face was so cold it hurt. He seemed to find it curious, staring as the color drained from her skin. Before Robin could whimper, it was gone, flicking back Wren's hood in a smooth motion. "Valkyrie?" Robin tried to tug her hand out of his, but the boy's grip was vice-like. This close, the pepper spray would blind them both. "Valkyrie?" His voice was deep, gravelly, a voice that belonged on a much older, much larger man.

"Is that the only word you can say?" In comparison, Robin knew she sounded breathless, tiny, weak. With small careful steps, she began to inch away from the freezer. If she could only get a few feet between them, Robin could escape.

"Valkyrie?" Yes, apparently. As if he could sense her slow shuffle towards the door, Pretty Boy's hand tightened on hers. "Val—"

An alphabet soup can crashed into the side of his head, thrown with enough force to send the boy stumbling into the freezer door. "Oi!" Brandishing another soup can, Lissa grinned. "Heads up, icicle brain!" As Robin wrenched her hand from his, a can of spaghettiOs broke Pretty Boy's nose with a sickening crunch. Robin stumbled backwards. Away from Lissa. Away from the boy who leaned against the freezer door, spaghettiOs mingling with blood that was not red, but an inky black. "Robin, here!"

"Lissa… what's going on?" Pretty Boy was beginning to lurch away from the door, piercing blue gaze still fixed on her, entirely unfazed by the noodles sliding down his chin. Whipping the pepper spray up, Robin backed down the aisle. "Lissa?" She was panicked, and even if Robin could pretend her hand wasn't shaking, her voice definitely was.

"Don't worry," Lissa called. The girl was gone, vanished between the aisles, and it was so like when they first arrived, Robin almost wanted to cry. Pretty Boy was still there, trailing after her with increasing speed. His nose was already reforming, and it was like watching the speed construction of a building, except this was a boy's nose and it made Robin want to vomit. "First one's always rough. You're doing great. Just a few more steps."

A few more steps, and a knife whistled down the auto repair aisle, lodging itself in the boy's hand before Robin could even scream. Robin flinched, dropping the pepper spray. The boy whipped his head to Lissa with an inhuman growl. "Lissa! Is that a—"

"Knife. Don't tell Wren?" With a wink, Lissa pulled another from her marshmallow coat. Pretty Boy wrenched her first knife out of his palm with a hiss. It rocketed back down the aisle, so fast Robin could just find the metallic blur. Lissa was going to die. In a smooth movement, the blonde plucked the knife out of the air, spinning it on her palm. "I told you, right? That he's been all 'those knives'll get you killed. Stick to the staves, Lissa. Emm likes staves.' You know what I wanna try. An axe." The knife buried itself back into the boy's hand, driving it and him into the glass separating them from the refrigerated beer. As the boy stumbled to his feet, the knife was followed by its pair, pinning his other hand to the cracked glass. "That'd show him and Chrom."

"Lissa, Lissa, you have to tell me what's going on." Pretty Boy was still staring at her, nonplussed by the knives pinning him to the refrigerator door. "You—you can't just—you just threw knives at that man."

"S'not a man. Did you even listen when Wren gave the lecture? It's a jotun. You know, big scary ice giant. Probably ate the cashier, which is a shame." Spinning out a third knife, Lissa pressed it to the boy's throat. She looked so very tiny and pink with the blade against his pale skin. "Go on. The Book. Let's take him home for Wren and Chrom"

"Book?" Lissa nodded and smiled. Was this some code? Some crazy word she was supposed to interpret? "This—This must be a tiramisu dream. It's still my birthday, and I just haven't woken up yet." Pretty Boy growled a more realistic, organic sound than Robin had ever dreamed before. "Lissa, I don't know how to use knives, if that's what you're somehow asking. Just, just let's get out of here. I'll call the police."

"Not knives. The Book. If we end it with knives, he'll just come back later. The only way to truly end him is to absorb his Word into the Book. If we come back with a jotun's Word, just the two of us, Wren and Chrom will have to admit we're good." Pretty Boy was beginning to squirm against Lissa's blades, eyes fixed on Robin. "Don't worry, Robin. I've seen it enough to coach you through it, I think."

"I have no idea what's going. Lissa, please."

Lissa's eyebrow's knit slowly knit together. "But the coat… That's Wren's coat. Only Valkyrie can wear that coat. He didn't give you permission to wear that?" Robin shook her head. "Oh, well—"

Pretty boy nailed Lissa in the stomach, sending her flying through the far window and rolling into the snow. "Lissa!" Marshmallow coat camouflaging perfectly with the accumulating snowbanks, Lissa remained motionless. As Robin started towards the window, the first knife fell to the tiled floor with an ominous clatter. The boy wrenched the second out, coating the dark handle in black blood, and with one strong fist, shattered the knife. As the shards fell from his palm, Pretty Boy smashed its pair on the floor under his heel, twisting the metal as if it had been plastic.

Robin backed down the aisle as the boy, who had just sent Lissa flying with more force than a car could've, watched her. Her hands were shaking even worse than before, and fumbling for her phone felt like an eternity. She was helpless, pathetically useless, and it ate at Robin's insides like some small rodent. With numb, tingly fingers, Robin found her speed dial. Wren's beaming face flashed up at her, Lissa's, and then her father's right underneath. Her last phone call.

At the dialer tone, Pretty Boy perked up like a dog to attention. "Wren—" Pretty Boy flung himself farther than any human could jump, toppling Robin into counter. With a grip like iron, he yanked the phone from her hand. The boy was so close Robin could see the lights reflecting off his teeth, slivers of ice instead of bone.

"Wren." Pretty Boy dragged out her brother's name as if tasting it on his tongue. Gasping against the countertop, Robin tried to move her hand, but at the first wiggle, pain laced up her wrist like lightning. Pulling his gaze from Robin to her phone, demolished in his hand, the boy stared at the purple plastic and wires. "Wren." While the boy picked at the shards of phone, Robin fumbled for anything, anything to defend herself with.

It was one of the old glass coffee pots, still full, but it was better than nothing. Robin swung it at Pretty Boy. The coffeepot cracked against the side of his face and ricocheted off. Scalding coffee sprayed everywhere, and even as Robin gasped, the boy began to hiss. He stumbled backwards, clutching at his face, and Robin realized the hissing wasn't coming from his mouth, but from his skin. Steam was billowing between his fingers like mist rolling down a mountain. Where droplets had landed on the back of his hands and forearms, the skin was beginning to melt away.

The boy started to scream, high pitched wailing of a train whistle, and Robin ran. Slipping across the tile and into the snow, Robin glanced over her shoulder. The skin that peeked through his fingers was no longer fair but cracked, milky, and somehow Robin knew Pretty Boy was staring at her behind his hands. "Lissa? Lissa, can you hear me?" The flurries had grown into a gale, and even if –as Robin hoped against hope—Lissa was somehow alive, the roar of the wind swallowed Robin's voice. But there, only a few feet away, Robin could see a little tuft of blonde. "Please, dear gods, be light enough for me to carry."

Kneeling at the girl's side, Robin brushed the snow from Lissa's face. Crumpled on the ground with the color washed from her face, the blonde looked like a doll, but unlike a doll, Lissa was somehow—miraculously—still breathing. Robin wanted to cry with relief. Perhaps she wasn't entirely useless. As she scooped the girl into her arms, however, Robin dropped Lissa to the ground again. Her injured wrist felt like it had caught fire the minute it supported her friend's weight. With the sickening realization Lissa wasn't going to be moveable, Robin glanced up.

Stepping through the same broken glass he had sent Lissa through, Pretty Boy shrieked at her as if he were more bird than man. Gathering Lissa into her arms as best she could, Robin couldn't pull her gaze from his face, half-skin, half-ice sculpture. "What are you?" she cried.

With a wave of one hand, Pretty Boy sucked the nearest falling snowflakes into his palm as if they were trapped in some miniature tornado. "Please. Just tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help you?" His snowflakes melded and compacted into a fine spear that fit into his hand perfectly and sparkled under the gas station lights like diamond dust. Something was wrong, wrong, wrong, but as the boy bent back to hurl the snow spear that was surely deadly sharp, all Robin could do was curl over Lissa and squeeze her eyes shut.

The boy wailed again, piercing through the darkness. She couldn't keep her eyes closed. Instead Robin snapped them open. If she was going to face… pain, this strange ice boy was going to see everything in her eyes. If there was nothing else Robin could do, she would force him to face the consequences. Pretty Boy was on his knees, snow spear rolling out of his grasp. Above him was Chrom, hand wrapped around the silver and gold blade rammed into Pretty Boy's chest.

With a snarl Robin had never seen, Chrom ripped the sword back out, and the boy began to melt. Black fluid spilled out from his chest like oil welling from the ground, and as Chrom wiped his sword in the snow, the boy's wound grew outwards until it was so large it was a window Robin could see Chrom's jeans through. The puddle that the boy dissolved in to vanished, absorbed by the snow. The snow spear puffed back into a mound of snowflakes, and then it was like he never existed at all. "Tell the rest of your kind what happens when you touch my sister or her friends." Chrom planted the sword in the ground, and it disappeared, too.

Crunching through the snow, he bent to Robin's side. "Are you okay?" Chrom's tone was casual, like he hadn't just killed a man—jotun?—with a vanishing sword. He lifted a hand to her chin, but Robin jerked away at the touch. She could see the hurt in his eyes, a quiet sting that buried itself in her stomach. Chrom, with his rosy cheeks, hair as blue as the sea and eyes even bluer, his face might look like a scolded puppy's, but he had held that blade in the same hand that reached for her chin. "Wren sent me. I'm going to take you home."

"Lissa…" Chrom gathered his little sister in his arms and rose to his feet. Lissa's head lolled back against his shoulder as if she was only sleeping. If Robin hadn't been such dead weight, she knew the girl would be skipping about right now.

"She's been through worse," Chrom replied. He began to slog through the feet of snow that had piled while they were in the gas station. The snowfall itself had stopped, and under a clear sky, the city looked peaceful.

"What the hell is going on here, Chrom?" Robin stumbled to her feet, cradling her injured wrist to her chest. "Tell me, or I'm not walking back with you. You can tell Wren to get me himself."

"You don't have a choice. The thing that just tried to kill you—I didn't kill it. He'll be back with some friends in twenty—thirty minutes tops, and explaining this all to you is going to take time. If you want to understand what that just happened, if you want to outlive tonight, you need to come with me, Robin." Chrom turned back down the street.

"Wait." The boy stopped under the gas station sign. Running back to the building, Robin hopped through the broken window. Shattered glass, busted soup, and coffee everywhere, the gas station looked like a bull had rampaged through the place. Swooping the pint of chocolate ice cream off the ground, Robin picked her way to the counter. It was still deserted, and Robin couldn't crush the curling suspicion in her gut that the cashier was dead. She slapped a five on the counter anyways. Kicking open the door, Robin waved the pint at Chrom. "Couldn't come all this way for nothing."

Chrom snorted.

* * *


	2. The Icemen Cometh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Update: With much reluctance, Wren begins to explain Ylistol and the giants. Robin finds everything oddly familiar.

As Robin swept open the door to Wren's apartment, she narrowly missed Wren himself, standing feet away from the door frame with a scowl on his face fit to terrify cats and kings alike. "Give me the coat, and sit on the couch."

"If Lissa and I hadn't just been nearly shish kabobbed by an ice spear wielding maniac that you neglected to mention to me, perhaps I'd be inclined to listen to you, Wren, but—"

"Lissa needs the couch anyways," Chrom said, nudging Robin with Lissa's limp arm as he edged around her. Wren glanced from Chrom's face, ruddy from cold, to Lissa's and nodded. With a parting glare, Wren left Robin in the doorway.

Against the maroon fabric, Lissa was even more washed out than before, and the cushions were so squishy it was as if they were threatening to swallow the girl entirely, making her look even smaller than usual. "Are you okay?" Wren asked. It was too soft to be directed to her, even as Robin leaned against the top of the couch. Instead, Wren gave Chrom a quick once.

"Oh, Chrom's fine. He stabbed harpoon man through the chest with a sword. Casual." Chrom wouldn't look at her, but Robin see his shoulders stiffen. She could almost understand Wren sharing this… this thing with him. The pair were inseparable. The thought constricted her throat like an anaconda's squeeze anyways, that Wren would trust Chrom and not her. "You neglected to mention that bit, too. How your best friend, our neighbor of eight years, battles ice giants. You know who told me, Wren? Lissa. We both know Lissa babbles too much to keep secrets, but you still trusted her over me?"

Wren sighed, a long exhale like air whooshing out of a bag. Sweeping to his feet in an easy motion, he held out a hand. "Return me my coat, Robin." He sounded tired, and now that she was truly looking, Robin could see the bruise colored shadows under Wren's eyes.

"And look at the shadows under your eyes. You go out with him. What were you going to tell me as the three of you left every night? Oh, gee, Robin, Chrom and I have super important—important—important man business." Wren snorted. "We need all the kitchen knives, and Lissa gets to come. But not you. You're too—"

"Reckless. Cocky. Soft-hearted. Headstrong." Wren stopped ticking off fingers and glanced up at her. "I can go on, but if I kept it up, I'd run out of fingers. Chrom and I talked about telling you, and we decided not to, for the precise reasons you proved tonight. You wouldn't listen to me, you wouldn't listen to him, and Lissa pays the price." With a tug on Wren's shirt, Chrom nodded at Lissa. Her marshmallow coat now lay in his arms, bundled around a handful of dinner knives that caught the light like fine jewelry. "Again with the damn knives? We're getting someone to watch that girl."

With a frustrated growl, Wren buried his hands in his hair and began to pace. This wasn't her brother, Robin decided. Wren liked hot chocolate, blankets, and those cheesy midnight sci-fi marathons. He smiled, laughed, and when he was upset, sulked around the house like a neglected puppy until you guessed what you did wrong. But then, how much of that had been a lie? As Robin opened her mouth to ask, Chrom rose to his feet. "I'll talk to him. Just give us a few minutes," Chrom said, a murmur that Wren, still absorbed in his own world, didn't even glance up at.

Robin wanted to argue, but she wanted an explanation. Giving Chrom a curt nod, Robin left to the kitchen for a spoon. The kitchen and the living room weren't truly separated, and the breakfast bar between the two rooms gave Robin a place to lean and glower over. Huddled together, Wren and Chrom were whispering too quietly for her to catch even hints of their conversation. Chrom, inexplicably, seemed to be on her side.

Her wrist barely twinged as she cracked open the ice cream container. With a frown, Robin gave it an experimental roll. Nothing, not even a bruise along the skin. An hour ago, she hadn't even been able to lift it. Another thing to add to the pile of questions Wren needed to explain. The pile was expanding at an astounding rate, Robin decided as she scooped out a generous spoonful of chocolate ice cream. "Chocolate, huh? That was always Mom's favorite. Not that you'd remember very well."

Wren leaned against the other side of the breakfast bar and gave the ice cream a rather wistful frown, like it could somehow locate their long run away mother that Robin couldn't remember and Wren insisted on using to guilt her with anyways. Not that it happened frequently enough for her to notice. Noooope. "I can't stomach cold foods much anymore. Frost giants do that," Wren added.

Robin glanced up at her brother warily. He was still talking to the ice cream, but his face was soft, glasses already beginning the precipitous slide from the bridge of his nose to the tip, like she remembered before Wren left for college. "Well, frost giants make me stress eat, apparently."

Wren didn't laugh, but then, oddly quiet Wren was still a huge step up from raging Wren. He placed a hand over hers, fingertips just brushing the miraculously healed wrist. "There are now… options. As to how we proceed. First, there are ways to make you… forget. I—"

"No one's making me forget anything." Robin shot Wren a scowl. "If you or whoever steal so much as my memory of breakfast this morning, I'll unleash nine kinds of hell on you. I'm not wandering around in the dark again. I'm helping."

"If you want to remember, you can't go home. You can't see Dad."

"We'll burn that bridge when we get there." Robin scooped another large spoonful of ice cream, this one dangerously close to leaking down the spoon handle like a chocolate mudslide. She didn't care. Somehow, the ice cream felt like an extension of the jotun, and eating it all meant victory. Perhaps this was why Wren couldn't eat ice cream anymore. "So? Explain?"

"You can't tell anyone else. They'll either call you crazy or actually believe you, and both are bad. Humans are little more than pebbles to these guys," Wren said. As Robin frowned, Wren laughed, faint and almost sardonic. "Well, normal, unprepared ones at any rate. You—We were lucky Lissa and Chrom protected you tonight. And that's—" With an impatient huff, Wren dug out his phone. It was buzzing dully, and Wren cut it off in a smooth motion. "And that's my phone. Remind me to see Miriel tomorrow, Chrom. She's been calling all night." Wren glanced over his shoulder to Chrom.

"Who's Miriel? Does she know about the ice things?" Robin asked. Wren flinched, breaking off whatever intense eye conversation he and Chrom had been having. "Or is she like a girlfriend? Because Dad's been getting suspicious you're not into—"

"Another rule." Wren turned back to Robin with his—very likely patented—disapproving older sibling face. "You don't ask questions. I'll tell you what I think you need to know, when you need to know it. And don't give me any faces, because we both know me giving you an inch results in you taking a mile. You also do what Chrom and I say. If we tell you to do something, you do exactly that, no more, no less, and not whatever Lissa suggests."

Robin nodded. "Yeah. I get it. Loads of rules. Now, ice giants?" At Wren's deepening scowl, Robin rolled her eyes. "Loads of important rules. Ice giants?"

Wren cast her a glance, long, sad, defeated. "I promised Mom, Dad, and myself I'd keep you safe. Everyone is counting on me to protect you, my little baby sister. Please don't make me do this, Robin. Forgetting—"

"Wouldn't keep me safe," Robin said. She resealed the now half empty pint of ice cream and fixed Wren a pointed frown. "Wren. You know me. You know that if you kept stopping me from going outside again and again that I would just push against you. I'd escape sometime, and then there would be nothing you could do." Robin knew she was guilting Wren into divulging everything, something. His broken face, forehead propped up by a delicate hand decorated with several hairline scars Robin could now guess the stories behind, twisted her stomach in knots. She needed to know though. That pulled at her stomach harder than any knot Wren could tie. "Please, Wren. Telling me was always the only option."

Wren threaded a hand through his hair with a groan. "The jotnar. That's the name of the ice giant race, singular jotun. In the Old Tongue, it translates loosely to 'man-eater.' It's precisely as it sounds. According to old mythology, long before Grima, Naga, or what have you, their race allied with the Old Gods. The Old Gods trusted them and their alliance, but the jotnar betrayed them. They slaughtered almost everyone, and the few of the Old Gods that escaped retreated well beyond the reach of jotnar and man. All that spared us humans from their betrayal was that the jotnar destroyed the bridge between worlds as they travelled en mass into Asgard, the realm of the gods."

"That bridge, the Bifrost, however, has somehow been… repaired. We don't know how, but it would seem jotnar are using the bridge to cross into our world in very small numbers." Wren waved a hand to Chrom and Lissa. "That's where we come in. The Shepherds, Lissa likes to call us. Herding our flock away from the giant, ice-wielding man-eaters plodding around our world like they already own it."

Robin frowned. "The one Lissa and I met was small, though. Not all… giant sized."

With a snort, Wren quirked an eyebrow at her. "All that, and you're worried that the mythical giant you encountered wasn't quite large enough for you?" Everything else had felt plausible, Robin wanted to say. She had seen it with her own two eyes, and if there was anything you could trust, it was experience. The jotnar, Asgard, Bifrost, it all felt familiar, tugging on something lodged in her brain she had just… somehow… forgotten. "The jotnar come in a variety of shapes and sizes. Only the smallest have been coming through so far. We think the Bifrost might still be under repair and unable to support the more powerful beings."

"Congratulations, by the way." Wren and Robin both flinched at Chrom's voice. As Robin whipped her head up to his, Chrom gave her a dazzlingly charming grin. "You now live in the Bifrost drop-off point. All flesh-loving frost giants with their shiny, shiny teeth arrive here before they head out into the world."

"Which was not something I was going to mention," Wren said. Chrom shrugged, and Wren sighed. With a half-smile and a shake of the head, her brother turned back to her. "The jotnar that have crossed into our world are too weak to go into the sun. Something about the heat. You'll be safe outdoors until sunset and safe in here until sunrise. As long as you're careful, there's nothing to worry about."

"What's a valkyrie?" Robin asked. Pawing at the hem of Wren's coat, she scanned the sleeves for any sort of unusual marker, but the coat was little more than a nondescript purple hooded jacket. "Lissa said only valkyrie could wear this coat. Is something special about it? Are you a valkyrie? Am I a valkyrie now?"

"Coat first." Wren stuck out a hand, and after a long huff, Robin shook off the coat and returned it to him. Folding it with a careful delicacy, Wren kept the folded garment close to his chest. "I'm not answering that one. It's more than you need to know."

"But the jotun was asking me about it. He seemed to be looking—"

"The jotun don't talk," Wren said. "You must have misheard. Stress, probably."

"But he did. Over and over. That jotun was searching for a valkyrie. For you, I think." Robin scanned Wren's face, hunting for any flicker of recognition, but his face was unreadable, carefully stoic.

"Chrom, did you…" Chrom walked over and leaned against the breakfast bar by Wren's side. So Chrom's word was more trustworthy than her own.

"There was the typical shrieking you could probably hear a mile away, but nothing understandable," Chrom said. As Wren nodded, Chrom glanced to Robin. His look was measuring, like he was somehow weighing the chances of her honesty on a mental scale. "Nothing to say it didn't speak to you though. What did it say?"

"She's not getting involved," Wren said as Robin opened her mouth to explain. "The jotun don't talk. They've never talked, not since the beginning. The jotnar that cross the Bifrost are primarily unintelligent, and, even if they could speak our language, have proven many times over that they're not interested in negotiating with us."

"Well, you don't seem to be much better." It slipped out, bitter, not because Robin truly thought they could communicate properly with the jotnar, but because Wren refused to believe her.

"Have you already forgotten that near death experience tonight? I've watched as people tried to talk with these monsters, tried to reason with them. Do you know what happened to them? What I have had to see? What Chrom has had to see? Lissa? The three of us against the endless tide of the jotnar… Every jotun we let live means one more human we let die. There's no room here for—" As Chrom nudged Wren's shoulder with his own, Wren paused and looked at her. His voice had just finished echoing off the walls, and Robin could feel the scandal, shock, horror, stiff on her face like a hideous mask. Wren had shouted at her. He seemed to realize it, and his face slowly fell. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell. There's… It's… I'll ask Lissa if she heard anything once she wakes up, okay?"

Robin nodded. She could feel Chrom and Wren watching her, but it only made the mortification, red on her cheeks, burn hotter. Robin knew she wasn't a child, a fool, or a bleeding heart, but Wren, Wren didn't want to listen. He wouldn't trust her word, didn't understand that she wanted to help, didn't believe she could. Wren didn't see that she needed this information. "Right," Robin said, tight and soft. "I think I'll go to sleep."

Wren hummed in agreement. The guilt was blatant on his face, but Robin didn't care. "Everything looks better with a little sleep." With a thin smile, Robin pushed herself off of the breakfast bar, and, after storing the ice cream in the freezer, she left Wren and Chrom for her room. "Goodnight?"

There was a plea for forgiveness in Wren's voice. For what or for how much, Robin couldn't tell, but his eyes were crumpled in legitimate sadness. Perhaps Wren wished to tell her everything? Whether that was true or not, Robin clung to the idea like a drowning man to a raft. Wren was, after all, her brother, her longest, closest confidante. "Goodnight," Robin replied and closed her bedroom door with a click.

With a dresser in one corner, bed in the other, and a half unpacked suitcase in the middle, her bedroom was just as bare as the rest of Wren's apartment. In the dim moonlight that shone through the window like light in water, the room was eerie. Robin didn't want to fumble for the light switch though and just flopped on the bed. There was so much she had wanted to ask Wren, and he hadn't answered. The jotnar, valkyrie, coat, the book and word thing Lissa mentioned, how Lissa had done all that she did… It swirled around her head like a plastic bag caught in the wind. Worse, everything felt vaguely familiar, which raised the question… Not that she wanted to consider, but would—had—Wren made her forget before?

Robin raised her once injured wrist into the air and splayed out her fingers like the branches of a tree. It had healed. Somehow. Perhaps the same way Lissa was healing now. Could Wren do that, too? Rolling over on her side, Robin huffed. She would find out. She was never going to feel as helpless again as she had tonight whether Wren cooperated or not.

* * *

Robin's dreams were fuzzy faces and scenes that she couldn't truly see, blurred like they were recorded on film covered in fingerprints. There were frost giants. She was running—from them? To them?—feet slapping on hardwood with a sound like fish on rocks. Wren was gone. Gone somewhere, which was odd, because she was in his apartment. She was running down his hall, Robin realized, and it was expanding, stretching. At one end of the hall was a pinprick of light and the other the jotnar, too many to fit in the narrow space, piling over and over each other. Robin knew she was yelling for Wren. No sound was coming out, however, and she was screaming in silence. Something was horribly wrong, and she was powerless to save him.

"Robin? Robin, wake up. C'mon. Snap out of it." Wren's voice and then his face swam into focus, warm, familiar, and very, very present. Wren was safe. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, frowning down on her with his real, tangible hand on her shoulder. Robin swept up and hugged him. Wren was solid. She was awake. After a hesitant pause, Wren wrapped an arm around her back. "It was just a dream. No need to yell for me. I'm here," he said, and his voice soothed away the writhing panic in her stomach.

Warmth seeped from Wren's skin into her bones. She had woken up freezing, Robin realized with an odd sense of clinical detachment. As she propped her head a little more comfortably on her brother's shoulder, Robin caught a glimpse of a backpack, too tattered to be hers, flopped against her bedroom door frame. "Are you going somewhere?"

Her voice was much firmer than she felt, but there was still a tremor there, one that Wren either missed or ignored. "You can't come, Robin. Those are the rules." Wren broke their hug with a disapproving frown, like he was scolding a puppy. "Now, don't—"

"Don't leave me. Not alone. I don't want to be left alone. I need to be able to see you," Robin said. Wren sat on the edge of her bed, confusion plain on his face. She couldn't tell him her dream. Robin couldn't explain why, but it was firmly ingrained in the fibers of her already fading memory. Wren couldn't know. "Just… please," Robin said, forcing every ounce of desperation she could muster into her voice.

With a heavy sigh, Wren pushed himself off the bed. "You had some nightmare, huh?" Robin clung to his arm and nodded. "This once, you can come. All the rules still hold. You do what Chrom and I say." As Robin scrambled out of bed, Wren paused in the door frame. "It should be a simple errand, but if I tell you to leave, you need to promise me you'll leave."

"Right. Those are the rules." That was a lie, but Wren didn't need to know it. Her brother swept his backpack over his shoulder with a nod.

* * *

They were out the door and at bus stop in ten minutes. Sleepy office workers huddled around the bus sign, yawning and blinking in the early morning sun. Wren threaded through the crowd, twisting his head around like a dog on a hunt, as Robin trailed after him. Despite the summer heat, Wren held his purple coat folded under one arm, and Robin couldn't tear her eyes from it. The coat and its mysteries were mocking her.

She almost stumbled in to him as Wren came to an abrupt stop. Peeking over his shoulder, Robin found Chrom leaning against the bus sign and Lissa bouncing at his side. As Lissa's mouth dropped open, Robin edged from behind Wren with a wave. "Morning."

"Robin!" It was three hours too early for Lissa's high pitched squeal, but the shriek was also vaguely nostalgic, comforting. If she closed her eyes, Robin could pretend the four of them were just waiting at the high school bus stop, in the years before Wren kept secrets from her. Lissa bounded forward and squeezed Robin's hands in her own. "Chrom said that grumpy-grumps Wren said that you wouldn't get to come. Does this mean you're in?"

As Wren sighed, Chrom straightened up with a smile. "I didn't call you grumpy-grumps. Just for the record. Both of you look like hell, by the way."

"Gee, really know how to flatter a girl, huh?" Robin said. Chrom's smile broadened, which gave her a slight thrill after Wren's clear unwillingness to let her go anywhere with the three of them last night. Perhaps Chrom and Lissa were on her side, if only a little. As Chrom passed Wren the day's paper, Robin snuck a glance at her brother. Hell was the best way to describe him. She had been so relieved he was… there that she hadn't seen how the shadows under his eyes had grown or the slight sleep-deprived shakiness in his hands. Lissa cleared her throat expectantly. "Yessss. Ah, yes. I am… half in."

With a cheer, Lissa threw her arms in the air. "Thank the gods! You have noooo idea how awful it is being the only girl. We need to talk about uncomfortable girly things around them as payback for all the uncomfortable manly things I've had to hear. Oh! Speaking of uncomfortable manly things…"

Lissa finally took a brief break for air before tugging a stranger to Robin. The boy, maybe a little younger than Wren, extracted his arm from Lissa's grip with a visible wince. "Right. No touching. At least three feet of distance." With a roll of her eyes, Lissa took an exaggerated step away from her companion. When his face wasn't curled up in a grimace, the boy was attractive in a tall, dark, and handsome sort of way. His dark hair looked fluffy, like a cat's, and Robin couldn't help but wonder if petting it had the same therapeutic properties. "Meet my fancy-pants bodyguard, Lon'qu. He's here to stop me from stealing the knives again," Lissa said with a small pout.

Robin chanced a small smile, but Lon'qu only grunted. "So… Lon'qu? Is that foreign?"

"It's my name." Robin watched him, waiting for some elaboration, but Lon'qu had already stopped staring at her shoes—He wouldn't meet her face, and Robin wasn't comfortable asking why—and begun to fidget with his jeans. Lon'qu was clearly uncomfortable, tugging at the denim, pulling at the collar of a sci-fi shirt that Robin swore Wren owned, wriggling his sneakers. "Stop staring, woman," Lon'qu growled.

"Robin. I'm Robin. Pleased to meet you." Lon'qu shifted a little farther away from her, which Robin was some kind of acknowledgement. Robin leaned towards Wren, who still had his nose buried in the newspaper. "Your friend is a little… odd. He's part of your nighttime adventures?"

As Wren glanced up from his paper, an aged bus skidded and squealed to a halt at their bus stop. Lon'qu jerked backwards, face twisted in an expression that almost looked like horror. Something was off about him, but as the throng buffeted her forward, Robin didn't have time to consider it. If it hadn't been for the firm hand on her elbow, she would have tripped up the bus steps. Ylistol was twice the size of Plegia City, and that apparently meant the bus crowds were vicious.

With the hand on her elbow steering her through the current of passengers, Robin stumbled into a bus seat. Chrom landed at her side with a relieved exhale. "The eight o'clock is always a zoo," he said. "Nearly lost you for a second there."

"Thanks." Robin twisted around in her seat, hunting for a glimpse of Wren between the forest of suits. The bus was packed, office workers crammed between the two rows of seats like sardines. As the bus lurched into motion, Robin had the horrible sensation Wren had been left behind. He was gone, just like her dream.

"Wren's standing near the front, I think." Chrom leaned into Robin's shoulder and pointed him out. Wren was indeed near the front of the bus, once again wrapped in his paper. Robin released a little breath she hadn't even known she was holding. "Looks like he barely made it on. I'm waiting for the day he topples over reading that newspaper on the bus." With an affectionate smile, Chrom turned around to scope out the other side of the bus. "And Lon'qu and Lissa are standing in the back. Guess we were the only ones who got seats. You must be good luck or something, Robin."

She let out a weak laugh. Wren was still there. Everything was okay. As Robin pressed her forehead out the window and began to watch the apartment complexes and offices whiz by, blending together like paints, Chrom bumped her shoulder with his own. "It's normal. Freaking out over your loved ones being in danger. It doesn't really go away, though." Robin pulled away from the window, and Chrom gave her a sad look. "You can't really stop them, no matter how much you want to. Wren... thinks he's the only one who can save the world."

"If I ask you why, will you tell me that you can't explain?" Robin asked. Chrom's face split in a grin, but it was tinged with a hint of melancholy. Chrom understood, and his presence at her shoulder was comforting. Perhaps Chrom, at least, hadn't changed since he left for college. Perhaps he was still her boyish, charismatic next-door neighbor. "It was a nightmare. I dreamed Wren was gone."

Chrom nodded, slow and thoughtful. "Yeah. That's a common one. Wren and Lissa. I've had that one about the both of them. You know what, though? No matter how many times I've had that dream, Lissa's woken up after that dream, and Wren's fallen out of bed in that dream, we're all still here."

After a pregnant pause, Chrom sighed. "Wren's stressed. Don't tell him I told you this, but things are getting more and more dismal here. More giants, colder nights. More people we can't save. We all blame ourselves for it a little bit, but Wren… for reasons... thinks he deserves more of the blame than the rest of us. If you got hurt—You're his precious sister, even if it doesn't feel like it at the moment. I know it's hard, but stay out of trouble. For Wren. He'd—All of us, really, would do stupid things to protect you."

Tugging at a loose thread in her shorts, Robin glanced up at Chrom. In the two years of her separation from Chrom, Wren, and Lissa, the three had gotten even closer without her. Chrom had finally surpassed her in knowing Wren best. "Would Wren actually… erase my memory? If I had been exposed to all of this before, would Wren really make me forget?"

Robin had to ask, because everything was familiar, sitting on the floor of her mind like some snarled yarn ball she couldn't unravel. Chrom frowned. "I don't think he has. If Wren did, it was without me, and he and I are never far apart. And Wren wouldn't do it without your permission. His sweet spot when it comes to you is embarrassingly large. When he starts rambling about you, even I want to blush."

"But…" As the bus slid to a halt, Robin let it dangle between them. She had forgotten something. Robin was sure, but Chrom was looking down at her in genuine confusion. She wanted to believe him, that Wren wouldn't wipe her memory. It was just… Something was missing, and Wren was the only one that knew how to take it away.

"We're here," Wren said. The crowd had mostly cleared, and Wren was now standing above her and Chrom, eyes flitting between them. "C'mon. You still want to see my college campus, right, Robin?" With a nod, Robin wobbled to her feet and filed out of the seat after Chrom. Wren, her poor older brother almost visibly stretched thin, whether he erased her memory or not, Robin was going to find a way to help him. She wasn't going to be useless. "Just stick with me, do as I say, and everything will be fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, yes, it was mostly a pile of setup, but I swear we're getting super close to action again.
> 
> I'd love to hear your opinions and pairing requests! Any and all support, advice, and requests are taken under careful consideration. I don't have a beta, so stuff gets missed now and again.
> 
> Look forward to the next chapter soon, and goodbye!


	3. A Spider's Web

"So that one we just passed was the archaeology department. Since we're archaeology majors, Chrom and I take most of our classes there. That one's where we're headed, the biology department." Wren pointed to a medium building, almost entirely glass and metal. The biology department was visibly newer than the ancient brick buildings Wren had been showing her before. "It's the most recent addition, obviously. During the summer, the department is deserted except for researching professors and their student assistants. It's…" As they rounded the corner, Wren trailed into silence. Lighting the side of the biology department in blue and red, several silently flashing police cars were parked in the departmental lot.

"Well, shit," Lissa said. It was a sentiment Lon'qu seemed to echo as he ducked his face away from the lights. But then, Lon'qu had also been fascinated by the lamp posts, nearly tripped over his own feet to avoid a moped, and stared at the sky in horror when the campus bell tower rang. Something was very odd about Lissa's bodyguard. Something beyond his sudden and mysterious appearance.

"Lissa!" Chrom turned to his sister with a face of horror.

"We were all thinking it," Lissa said with a shrug.

Before the two could truly begin to bicker, Wren nodded towards the biology department. "C'mon. We need to find Miriel." As Wren dashed towards the building, the rest hurried after him.

* * *

The department itself was deserted on the ground floor, and the inside, just as polished and pristine as the outside, was unnerving in the silence. With a quick glance to the empty reception desk, Wren rushed up the nearest winding staircase. The staircase spiraled upwards and upwards for what seemed like an eternity. Encased in a glass tube, it felt distinctly claustrophobic, and as Wren finally exited out onto one of the floors, Robin breathed a little sigh of relief at the freedom.

The narrow hallway, designed to fit two to three people at best, looked ready to split at the seams under the sheer volume of people spilling out of one of the labs. Boxes of curved metal, their shiny edges looping out of the cardboard like miniature roller coaster rides over amusement park walls, lined one wall, piles of papers and books along the other. Squished in the middle, policemen tangled with people Robin could only assume were scientists. Wren threaded a hand through his hair and groaned. "One night. I don't pick up the phone one freakin' night—" With a sigh, Wren ducked his head down. When he rose it back up, Wren was composed, but Robin could still find the frustration in the wrinkle along his forehead. "Right. We need to find Miriel in this mess. You find her, find out if there were actually jotnar involved, and get out."

"We aren't going to help clear the police? Or help the police? Or… do anything?" Robin asked.

"No. The jotnar are our concern. We don't have time to sort out people's mundane squabbles." Wren looked out into the crowd, but even on his tiptoes, he was still too short to find this Miriel in the crowd.

"But that's so…" Cold. Heartless. Unlike you. Wren was a fixer, a protector. Robin frowned at her brother's back, but it didn't ease the tension in her stomach. Instead, Robin couldn't shake the urge to rip Wren's purple coat from under his arm. Wren was normal before the coat. "What does Miriel look like? I'll help."

"None of your business, and no you won't." Crossing his arms over his chest, Wren fixed her with the same face their father used to chastise them with. "Stay here. Miriel's…"

Lissa poked her head around Robin's shoulder. "Miriel would probably dissect puppies for science. Probably has. I should—"

"Not ask her that." As Lissa began to pout, Wren glanced back to Robin. "Listen. Miriel's goals and our goals aren't necessarily the same. We work together because we have to, but if she'll cross us in a heartbeat if it means a greater scientific development. She excels at self-interest, and she's dangerous. Stay put, Robin. If need be, I'll have someone keep you company."

The stress Chrom had mentioned to her was as plain on Wren's face as text on a page. She couldn't sit by and do nothing. "Fine. Lissa. I pick Lissa to keep me company."

Wren snorted. "Well, I pick Lon'qu." Robin and Lon'qu huffed together. As her new babysitter tossed her a sidelong scowl and an odd sneer, like she smelled funny or something, Robin opened her mouth to voice her complaints. "No. And nothing from you either, Lon'qu. We'll be back soon. Don't get any ideas."

"Wren!" As Lissa tossed a wistful glance over her shoulder, Robin watched Wren, Chrom, and Lissa dive into the crowd. She twisted around and fixed Lon'qu with a glare that the boy probably didn't deserve. Lon'qu's face was still stuck in its peculiar twist. "Listen. I don't need a supervisor, okay? You can come with me and help me find Miriel if you want, or you can wait right here for me to come out."

"No." Lon'qu settled against the wall and continued to frown at her.

"Please. I'm sure Wren could use our help in that crowd. I wouldn't even have to talk to Miriel. We could just find her and then get Wren." As Robin stepped towards him, Lon'qu slid a little further away with the same suspicious scowl. "Have I… done something to you?"

"No." Robin took another step towards him. After squirming in place for a few moments, Lon'qu moved away another step. "Stay away. Three feet."

Robin stepped back. "Right then. Three feet." Returning her gaze to the crowd, Robin resisted the urge to grind her teeth in frustration. Wren was somewhere in that throng of people, and she was stuck out here with this bizarre man that feared modern technology and human contact. "Wait. You don't like touching?"

Lon'qu's flinch as Robin spun back towards him answered the question for her. Lon'qu's eyebrows narrowed in what Robin guessed was realization as she turned back to the crowd again. "No. Woman. No. Stop." With a snort, Robin dashed for the crowd, Lon'qu on her heels. She crashed into the first two police officers hard. Ignoring the dull ache of her shoulder and the growls of the two officers, Robin squeezed between them. Before the crowd could absorb her, Lon'qu grabbed a handful of her shirt. "You're mad," Lon'qu snarled.

"Let go of me, you—you—you twit!" It was the worse Robin could come up with as she wiggled between the first two officers while attempting to yank her shirt out of Lon'qu's fist. His grip was surprisingly strong, and the seams of her shirt were already beginning to make the muted popping sound of unraveling. As Robin felt herself being pulled out of the crowd, she aimed a kick at Lon'qu's shin. "So help me, Naga, I will lick your hand, Lon'qu. Don't test me."

With a horrified gasp, audible over the clamor of the police, Lon'qu loosened his hold on her shirt. At the sudden loss of force, Robin stumbled forward, and as one of the first two officers pushed his way around them, she toppled into the crowd. Robin's forehead collided with a lab assistant's shoulder blade. Before she could straighten herself, someone else smashed into her back with a familiar grunt. As Robin began push herself off of the man in front of her, the person behind her let out a terrified growl.

"Lon'qu?" After a moment of silence, Robin shuffled to face him. Lon'qu was perhaps three inches away at best, hands propped against the man she had fallen into. His disgruntled sneer had slid off, replaced with a look of pure panic. "Just—Just stay calm. Breathe. In and out."

"Too close," Lon'qu said. Robin could just find his hands in her peripherals, curling into fists in the lab assistant's coat. The assistant wrenched himself away from the pair, and Lon'qu stumbled into Robin again. Stopping his fall with her hands, Robin could feel Lon'qu's heart racing under her palm. "Stop touching. Now."

Robin tried to back up, but someone else had already inched in to the lab assistant's spot. "I can't. Lon'qu, there's no room to go anywhere. If you want to get out, you need to push through those people behind you." Lon'qu's breathing hitched. "It's okay. I can see them. They're all men. Everything is fine. You can do that, right?"

Lon'qu twisted to the men behind him and back to her. "Can't." Even his voice sounded irregular, more breathy than usual, and Robin wasn't sure if it was because Lon'qu had broken down into a cold sweat or because she was close enough to smell the detergent in his shirt. Probably both. "Can't leave you."

"You have to," Robin said. "I need to help Wren. I'm sorry, but I need to. He's my brother, and I can't just ignore him when he's struggling. I can't turn back." Lon'qu looked like a kicked puppy, and Robin felt terrible. Every ounce of guilt she tried to convey in her voice didn't solve Lon'qu's terror. "I never meant for you to follow me. I'll help you out first, but then I'm going back to find Miriel. Okay?"

Lon'qu remained silent, eyes closed, as Robin tried to hunt out the easiest route out of this mess. The officers were more milling about than actually investigating. A few were talking to scientists, but most seemed to be there solely to block her path. Everyone was packed between the books and boxes like sardines. Robin turned to her left. Even up close, the metal parts were mysterious. Pushing aside the question of their function, Robin decided the boxes were packed too closely to step around. On her right, the organized stacks of books and papers lined the other wall. They were… perhaps knee-height.

"You're not a book lover, right?" As Robin slid between him and the lab assistant, Lon'qu's eyes fluttered back open. Before she could question her actions, Robin stepped up on to the nearest stack of books. It was a snug fit. Even with her back pressed against the wall, Robin could see the tips of her sneakers poking over the edge of the book cover. Librarians everywhere would probably shriek at her now.

"What in the blazes…" Lon'qu gaped up at her before sealing his mouth with a grumble.

"C'mon. It's safe. Roomy," Robin added, spreading her arms out to demonstrate. Lon'qu's face sunk into its familiar grimace. After a moment's hesitation, he balanced himself on the stack of books at her outstretched fingertips. "See. Good idea, huh?" Lon'qu rolled his eyes. "Okay. Now, you go that way, and I'll head into the lab."

Lon'qu didn't even glance away from her face. Now that he was looking at her, and not her shoes, Robin had to admit Lon'qu was almost intimidating and not just an annoyance. "No. I follow you."

"You know there's not really room for three feet here, right?" Lon'qu nodded. Now that he was arm's length away from her, most of his tension seemed to have vanished. "Fine. But I'm helping Wren no matter what. If you need to turn around, I'm not helping you next time. You understand?" Lon'qu nodded again. She was forcing him into an uncomfortable situation. Robin understood and crushed the guilt flowering in her stomach under her heel. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if that made her an even worse person. "Everything I'm doing… I'm doing for Wren, so… I'm sorry. For you. But it has to be done." Lon'qu nodded yet again, and Robin decided he understood.

The stacks of books were wobbly but traversable. Someone had piled them at almost identical heights, so shuffling along the books like she was scaling a cliff was a simple task. A few of the officers cast her odd looks, but much to Robin's relief, no one tried to pull her down, and no one looked like Wren, Chrom, or Lissa. Lon'qu slid behind her, silent but for the occasional grunt whenever she wobbled a little too far from the wall. Unfortunately, the book path ended at the door.

Robin hopped off, nearly landing on the lab assistant in the doorway. "Excuse me. I'm looking for Miriel. Have you seen her anywhere?" The lab assistant didn't even turn at her words, and Robin realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach that her voice didn't carry over the crowd. Here in the thick of it, the police officer's din was the loudest. "Excuse me! Hey!" The roar of the officers and scientists drowned out even her yell. Irritation buzzing under her skin like bees in a hive, Robin slunk into the lab, Lon'qu close behind.

* * *

The lab was just as chaotic as the hallway. Although it was marginally less crowded, equipment, cords, and papers were strewn everywhere, blocking off large sections of the floor. In the nearest corner of the room, Robin spotted another, smaller room, mostly glass and mostly deserted. Hugging the wall, Robin wiggled her way towards it through the throng and into the glass room.

Mainframe computers completely occupied one wall, and along the two not occupied by the door stretched one continuous desk. At one corner of the desk, a lab assistant seemed to have fallen asleep, even amongst all the commotion, with his coffee. As Lon'qu slammed the door behind them with enough force to rattle the windows, the lab assistant jerked up, knocking over his cup of coffee. Before Robin could straighten it, coffee spilled across the table towards a panel of buttons and switches. The assistant stumbled up from his seat in mild terror. "Towel? Do you have a towel? O-or paper? Or a cloth? Anything?" Lon'qu, entirely unapologetic, grunted. "Oh, Miriel's gonna kill me. Like today could go any worse."

Robin glanced from the assistant, who had buried his face in his hands, to the coffee, which had now crept inches away from the panel. There at the top of the switches and buttons was a microphone. "Does this work the microphone?"

The boy looked up at her request. "Well, yeah. But not for much longer. Ohhh, there goes my work-study."

Towel, paper, cloth. Robin scanned the room for anything absorbent, but the books and papers must have all been piled in the hallway. The only scraps of absorbent materials were the clothes on their backs. Clothes. "Lon'qu, give me your shirt. Now." Lon'qu shook his head violently, stealing away another of her precious seconds. She needed the microphone. "Fine." Robin pulled her tank top over her head and dropped it between the spill and the microphone panel.

"Whoa. Uh, that's not— We have to wear shirts here." As the assistant spluttered and Lon'qu spun his back to her, Robin crossed her arms over her chest. At least she was wearing a cute bra. Trapped in glass box with two men inside, too many police officers and her brother on the outside, in an ugly bra would probably be worse. Somehow. It was just skin, right? Like a swimsuit. The assistant was already a little pink, eyes fixed on her shoes, and Lon'qu's ears looked unusually red. Shaking her head to clear it, Robin turned back to the microphone.

"How does this work?" As she bent over the microphone, Robin tightened her folded arms.

"Here." A back of a hand nudged her shoulder. Robin glanced down to find the assistant offering her his shirt.

"Don't you have a dress code?" With a warm, light laugh, the assistant bumped her shoulder again. Robin took the shirt and pulled it over her head. The t-shirt, advertising some sports team she didn't recognize, dropped down just below the hem of her shorts, but it was definitely better than nothing. It also smelled nice, like coffee mixed with spice. Robin supposed that was neither here nor there. "So, how does this work?"

The assistant, now shirtless and even pinker than before, approached the panel. "These switches are the volume. That one's the power. Should be all you need. I don't even know how to use the rest." Robin cast the assistant a sidelong glance. With an easy smile, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Lately, she had gotten used to a lot more resistance when it came to doing things. "Name's Stahl. By the way. It's my first week. Like first first week. I'm the new work-study student, the freshman they've got doing the clerical—Rambling. I'm rambling. Little nervous. Sorry. It's—It's—I think I'm getting fired today. Do you know if that's happening?"

"I'm sure you're fine. We'll… have a word with Miriel?" Stahl brightened even further as Lon'qu rolled his eyes. Well, Stahl didn't need to know she had no actual power, right? One way or another, Robin decided she'd help him, too. Repayment for the shirt. "I'm Robin, and that's Lon'qu. Sorry by the way for storming in. It's hell out there."

Robin turned on the microphone power and leaned down to the speaker. "Helloooo?" Her voice reverberated around the lab and out into the hallway. Although Robin suspected she sounded more like an uncertain, somewhat lost teenage girl than an authority figure, the lab and hall finally quieted. "Uh. Great. How's everyone doing? Never mind. Don't answer that. Rhetorical."

While most of the lab had stilled, Robin could spot people stumbling out of the way in a distinctive path. Wren was on his way, and she hadn't found Miriel yet. "Ah, yes. I'm looking for a Ms. Miriel… uhhh… Miriel? If she could just come over to the glass box to answer… important police officer questions—"

"What are you doing?" Wren slammed the door open with enough force that the glass room rattled a second time.

"Miriel. Miriel, if you could please just meet us here in our new official… investigating box, we've got questions. Thanks." It was breathy and rushed, but Robin cut the microphone off just as Wren pulled her away. He was furious, but then, this was also becoming the norm between her and her brother, so perhaps it would sting a little less. "I'm helping. I'm proving to you that I can help. Which I just did."

"No, no you—Where's your shirt? Who's shirt is this?" Wren glanced from Stahl's shirt, to her now soaked tank top, to Stahl himself. "Who're you?"

"I'm…" Stahl trailed off into a squeak, paling as a woman rapped against the open door.

"Procure a new garment for yourself, Stahl." With pursed lips, the woman quirked an eyebrow at him. "I trust you understand that shirts are mandatory. Spare lab coats are located in my office, should you require them. We here in the hallowed halls of tertiary education do hold ourselves to certain standards." As Stahl fled the room, the woman closed the door behind him with a sniff. "Now, who is this, Wren? I don't usually answer summons, but for such a curious individual, I make exceptions. You neglected to mention… A sister, perhaps?"

This must be Miriel, Robin decided. The woman looked sharp, severe, every inch a researcher of some level, with her rounded glasses, conservative clothes, and immaculate lab coat. A cold, calculating intelligence, like that of a hawk, lurked behind her eyes, and it made Robin almost shiver. Almost. She'd show Wren she could help. "Yes, I'm—"

"Miriel, please. You're a busy woman, and—"

The door slammed open, shaking the glass yet again, as a police officer barged into the room. With a mildly apologetic expression that clashed with his rough face, the officer delicately closed the door behind him. "No one is telling Gregor about the official investigating room. It hurts his poor heart to see—"

"Even the smallest degree of investigation should yield an obvious result. This isn't an official investigating room, but then, if you possessed enough skill to conduct the smallest degree of investigation, you'd understand, Gregor, that my laboratory does not wish for your buffoonish—" As the door to the glass room opened once again, Miriel tossed her hands into the air with a tight huff. Another man, built as large as Gregor but with a younger, more refined face, pushed his way into the room. "Speak of the devil. Frederick, haven't you meddled enough in my personal affairs?"

Frederick nodded at Wren before fixing Miriel with a tight lipped, neutral expression, the sort that Robin could find the concealed frustration behind. Gregor settled down on the edge of one table as Miriel fixed her glasses and pursed her lips again, this time so forcefully it scrunched her nose as well. Robin was suspicious she had just tangled herself in a long standing feud. "I was only following university procedures, which state that in the instance of a robbery, we inform the proper authorities, our fine police force."

"Who've surely finished their more than exemplary destruction of my laboratory, correct? A robbery investigation hardly requires this many fat-fingered hands. In fact, I'd rather imagine this hampers any evidence of any tampering." Gregor shifted uncomfortably. "You and your bumbling office leapt at the opportunity to rifle through my life's work for your own profit."

"Gregor and the boys are just thinking to make sure everything's safe. Gregor comes to check on you because he's worried pretty, sweet Miriel was… injured?" At Miriel's disgusted growl, Gregor widened his innocent smile. It twisted his face in a way that was almost disturbing. "Is also forgetting Miriel doesn't like the… f… f…"

"Flattery," Frederick provided.

"Flattery. Miriel doesn't like the flattery. Gregor will write this in his little police notebook." Miriel's delicate sneer deepened into an even darker snarl. "Gregor's boys maybe are also here for… to be looking for the ice man things. But just a little. Most are making sure nice, forgiveful—wait. Not nice, not forgiveful—wait."

"Oh. Enough, Gregor." Miriel massaged her temples with a glare that could probably kill on overexposure. "If it will expedite your departure, I will grant a select number of officers that cooperate strictly with you access to some of our developmental products. Is this acceptable?" Gregor tilted his head to the side, every inch a confused puppy. "Oh, for the love of—Leave, and I'll give you stuff, okay?"

Beaming, Gregor hopped off the table. "Miriel is most generous. Gregor's favorite." As Miriel waved him out of the room, the police officer's good mood hardly seemed dampened. "Has Gregor mentioned how Miriel is the most loveliest, smartest—" Miriel closed the door in the officer's face, but his toothy grin only broadened as Gregor waved goodbye to her through the glass.

"Insufferable." Glare sliding off her face like water on rocks, Miriel twirled back to Robin. Wren forced her further behind him, hand tight on her wrist, as Miriel clicked towards them on her black pumps. "Now, I believe you owe us introductions. I'm Miriel, a professor and researcher here in the biology department. She knows?" Wren only scowled and tightened his hand around her wrist. "So, yes? Officially, we analyze and date the specimens provided to us by the archaeology department, primarily Frederick. Unofficially, we cooperate with Wren and his einherjar to research the jotnar, their objectives, and their weaknesses. He provides us with samples which—"

"That's enough, Miriel." Robin didn't have to see Wren's face to know his scowl had deepened. "She's leaving. Lon'qu, get her out."

"Her name's Robin, by the way. What's an einherjar?" Robin asked. She could see Lon'qu shifting towards the door, but she needed answers. Einherjar. She had heard that word before. It was one of the words that had been stolen from her. With a grasp that now threatened to cut the circulation to her arm, Wren began to pull Robin out of the room. "Wait. Wren, please. What's—" As Wren tossed her out, he nodded to Chrom and Lissa, who had been hovering outside the door in the now nearly deserted lab.

With a quick squeeze of her shoulder, Chrom followed Wren into the lab, Lissa bouncing after him. And then Robin was alone, forced to watch her friends and family from outside their glass box. "Move." A redhead, open laptop balanced in one hand as the other flew over the keys, didn't look up from the screen, but as Robin stood there, trying to confirm she had spoken to her at all, the red-head huffed. "Move? Hello? Are you deaf? Get out of my way, squirt, unless you're about to rewrite my thousands and thousands of lines of highly specialized, highly valuable computer code. Go mope somewhere else, or smear snot on Cherche's shirt sleeves, or do whatever it is you brats do nowadays."

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Robin asked. The red-head pulled her gaze from the computer to give her a slow once-over. "I go by Robin, by the way. Not squirt, brat, or whatever else."

The red-head snickered. "So that's where the new guy's shirt got to. Robin. Cute. Office romance makes me want to vomit, so keep it outta my face. Name's Sully." As Robin shuffled out of the red-head's way, Sully returned to her computer. She didn't look like a programmer. Built larger than Wren, Sully looked like the sort Robin walked into and then bounced off of due to the sheer difference in muscle mass. With nothing else to do, Robin trailed after her. "Look. It's sweet you want to help, but really, you can't. I've got an entire sorting algorithm to rewrite for all those jotnar blood samples, plus that weird-ass electric impulse code, and only old work from months ago to build off of. Not to mention whatever moron stole the flash drive with my final copies ripped it out of the computer mid update. The file system's trashed. There's a lot of work I need to do. Go ask Cherche or new guy if they need help instead."

Robin followed the direction Sully waved in to another assistant, a girl bent over stacks of books and papers. As Robin walked up to her, Cherche didn't so much as look up. "Hey. Um… I'm Robin. Sully said to check and see if you needed some help. You're Cherche, right?" She flipped open a book, muttered something to herself, and then slammed it shut. Robin studied the girl, the girl's hair really, which was a soft shade of reddish-pink Robin envied her the guts for having dyed. After a few more moments of silence, Robin cleared her throat. "Excuse me, can I—"

"My research is gone." Cherche's voice was perfectly even, devoid of all hint of melancholy or anger, and it made the loss even more poignant. Whoever stole these people's work, Robin could only find consolation in the fact that Wren would bring them to justice. "It's just all… gone. The thief even trampled the remaining reports. Look at this." Cherche raised a handful of crumpled papers, decorated with a shoe print Robin was suspicious she might have been responsible for. Well, if they were important, perhaps they shouldn't have been in the hallway. The excuse didn't make her feel much better about it. "I'm Cherche. The dragon researcher. Ex-dragon researcher now that my papers are gone, and the bone Professor Frederick retrieved for me is gone, and all the evidence dragons ever existed has gone back to stories and paintings."

With a sniffly sigh, Cherche thumbed through the next book on her stack. "Is there any way I can help you? Are you checking for pages or something?" Robin asked.

"No." Apparently, Cherche meant for it to answer both questions, because Robin stood there in awkward silence, looking down at the girl sitting cross-legged on the floor. As it became apparent Cherche was going to remain quiet, Robin wandered away to the remaining assistant, Stahl.

Now in a buttoned up lab coat, Stahl was kneeling on the ground, clip board in one hand, pen in the other. On the desk in front of him was a row of bottles and vials, labels all facing outwards. At the sound of her footsteps, Stahl flinched away from table, rocking some of the more delicate glass containers. "You're jumpy," Robin said.

Stahl stumbled to his feet with an awkward, nervous laugh. "Yeah… I just… It's been a rough first day, with all the cops and all the questions. I mean, I know they pretty much ignored me, but just being around cops makes you feel like you've done something wrong."

"I think you'll be okay. Just a hunch, but you don't seem like the hardened criminal type." As Stahl smoothed his hands on the lab coat, Robin thumbed the hem of his shirt. "Do you want this back?"

Stahl's face reddened faster than a changing street light. "No! Uh, no. No, that's fine." As Robin rose her eyebrows, Stahl squeaked. "Sorry. Did I mention it's been a rough first day? You can just wash the shirt and return it. Not that you have to come back. I don't mean to imply that you should see me again on a separate occasion. In fact, why don't you just keep the skirt. Shirt. I don't wear skirts."

Stahl clapped a hand over his blushing face, and Robin giggled. "Right. So… I'll wash this and maybe return it." As Stahl slowly relaxed again, Robin knelt down to the vials. The labels were little more than combinations of letters and numbers, but inside the bottles were filled with a familiar, inky black fluid. Jotun blood. "What are these? Can I help?"

"Oh. Those are blood samples. I'm just checking to see how many we're missing. Some vanished in the robbery, so we've got to figure out which ones." Stahl glanced from Robin to his clipboard. "If you want to read the labels for me, I'll—"

"Stahl, you may assist Cherche in text inventory for a moment." Robin rose to her feet as Miriel fixed them both with a measured stare. Stahl lasted only long enough to nod before he scrambled away and left Robin alone. Miriel was an intimidating woman, with eyes that felt like they could stare into her very essence. "Robin. You must be Wren's sister. You have his eyes, his hair, even a similar set of body language."

Robin glanced to the glass room. Wren, Chrom, Lon'qu, and Lissa were still inside, deep in conversation with Frederick. Wren was watching her. Robin could feel it. "Oh? Your brother is still locked in conversation with Mr. Law and Justice. You know, when Wren first enrolled in our wonderful university, he was a darling boy, so willing to assist, so eager to please. Then Frederick took him and Chrom in as his protégés. He corrupted them, with his nonsense of slaughtering all the jotnar, his insistence we couldn't learn from them. Frederick is too narrow-minded for academia, but then, that's none of your concern. Do you possess your brother's capabilities?"

Robin didn't dare look to Wren again, because she could still feel his eyes on hers. He would sense she was sympathetic to Miriel. Miriel seemed like the sort who would understand that the jotun had spoken to her. Miriel seemed like she trusted her. Miriel gave her information. Robin shrugged, almost imperceptible but to Miriel who was inches away.

"Have you heard of the Book of the Valkyrie?" That must be the book Wren refused to trust her about. Robin nodded. "Well, then, it's a little known fact that more than one traversed the boundaries between worlds and landed in our own. Your brother is in possession of and holds mastery over one of these tomes. Until approximately nine last night, I was in possession of a second. Unfortunately, I had never been able to harness its powers, but, if the key to these mystical abilities were blood-related, as I have grown to expect, you would be the most likely utilizer of this book."

"What could this book do? Could it help Wren?" Robin tried to keep her voice even, but her excitement shone through anyways. This was how she could finally prove to Wren that she could help. If Robin held the same powers he did, Wren would have to let her join him. Join his team.

"Of course. It's a valkyrie's companion, the source of their spells and einherjar, their army. If you were able to use one, then you would possess the capacity to double the quantity of Wren's forces, thereby halving his work." Miriel stared down at her, hawk-like eyes catching and analyzing every shift in her expression. Robin could feel Miriel prowling around her like a lioness around its prey, even as she could sense Wren's tension grow larger every second her and Miriel were together. Miriel was dangerous, but then, Miriel also trusted her, believed she could help Wren.

"Then… I eagerly await the day my brother returns with it." Whatever Miriel said, Wren had warned her she was dangerous. Perhaps this once she should exercise some patience, Robin decided. Miriel was still an unknown quantity, and even their brief conversation in the glass box had panicked Wren.

"Your brother will not be returning with the book. He refused my request for him to retrieve my stolen materials."

Robin frowned. "What? That doesn't sound like him at all. Wren would never…" But then, Wren had mentioned that he would only help under certain conditions from the start. Something about the lack of time. If only she could help. If only she could get him more time. If only she had that book.

"Wren rarely involves himself in matters outside the jotnar." Miriel sighed, sad and shaky. "My entire life's work, while incredibly indispensable to me and my coworkers, strikes him as less valuable to the jotnar, and therefore, Wren has refused to involve himself in it. The book, along with all of our research, will probably never be returned. Alas, if I could leave the laboratory, I would gladly track down my missing items, but after the initial robbery, I'm now loath to leave the laboratory unsupervised. If only—"

"What if I found everything?" Robin asked. Miriel raised a hand to straighten her glasses and then peered down at Robin through the lenses. "I'm sure Wren wants to help, but he's been really busy and really tired lately. If I find the rest for you instead, can you let me keep the book? If I can use it, that is. If I can find and use the book, then I can help Wren, which means he'd be free to help you more often, so everyone would win. It would be a perfect solution."

"A perfect solution, hmmm?" Miriel granted Robin a slow, thin-lipped smile. "They say those rarely exist, but perhaps your idea could be one of them."

"We're done here, Robin." Wren's voice cut through Miriel's softer one like a blade through butter. Wren, Chrom, Lissa, and Lon'qu all hovered by the door, looking on her with varying degrees of obviousness and concern. "C'mon. Let's go."

As Robin edged around Miriel, the woman placed a hand on her shoulder. "If you wish to assist me, meet me here tomorrow at the same time. I'll provide you with information, supplies, and companions." And then Miriel's hand was gone, leaving Robin with a weight in her stomach, and the knowledge that she was about to betray Wren's request to stay away from Miriel again tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens... I know, I know, more setup, but this is the last setup chapter before more actiony action! Promise!
> 
> So, for plot purposes, essentially anyone Miriel works with can go with Robin next chapter namely, any two of Sully, Cherche, Miriel, Frederick, Gregor, and Virion (who will be introduced anyways), so I'm curious for your opinions. If there's a particular character you'd like to see more of sooner rather than later, feel free to pop their name. In a pinch, I've obviously got my own opinions, but this is a fanfic, and I'd like it to be a little more fun for you guys to read.
> 
> Per usual, I take into consideration all of your reviews, pairing suggestions, and character calls, so feel free to be open. All feedback is appreciated. And so are my silent readers, fyi. I'm a notoriously quiet reader myself, so I get you. :)


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